


and this bird you'll never change

by ColtsAndQuills



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColtsAndQuills/pseuds/ColtsAndQuills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lover of kittens, guinea pigs, and all things cute and fuzzy. What Castiel didn't like were birds. They were beautiful, but they made him sad. They’d die without ever having the chance to fly. He wondered if they even knew they could.</p><p>A Destiel ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and this bird you'll never change

If Castiel could ever have a pet, he might like to have a cat. There was a certain intelligence in their eyes that outshone that of some humans, and though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, something rewarding about earning their approval. Guinea pigs were nice, too. Mice and hamsters were popular competition, Dad having assigned them a similar charm, but guinea pigs were preferred. Maybe it was the silky, sandy fluff factor.

What he didn’t like were birds.

At least, not the ones that were pets. Fates already decided, nothing to look forward to but repetitive stale meals and cramped lodgings, and always shit underfoot. They were beautiful, but they made him sad. They’d die without ever having the chance to fly. He wondered if they even knew they could.

“Yo, Cas, what are you doing? Three bodies and a hysteric soccer mom, and you’re window shopping?”

Dean walked over to the angel, who seemed to be having a staring contest with a molting parakeet through a shop window smudged by a week’s worth of poking, cooing passerby. From below, a wet nose, warbled whimper, and pair of damp eyes that looked too large for a pup’s head rose imploringly to the hunter.

Brows quirked above an unimpressed, green stare. “Nice try, but when you have a little brother like mine, those tricks stop working pretty damn fast.”

The pup snorted and turned a furry backside to the glass.

“Yeah, yeah. Typical.” There was a small flash of white between his lips, but the smile slid from Dean’s face as he saw Cas’ reflection. His brow hung heavy, and lips were pressed thin; it was the kind of expression he usually wore when thinking hard, or contemplating the chemical structure of peanut butter, or doing whatever the hell it was angels did when their minds were on hibernate.

Dean jostled his arm lightly with his elbow. “Hey. Unless he’s giving you a lead on whatever freakshow we’re dealing with, we’ve gotta move.”

Cas was still as a headstone. A rumble had begun sounding in the distance, and the sky was trading its summer blues for funeral grays, making pedestrians pick up their pace and cars roll up their windows in preparation for a downpour.

"I wish I could help him to fly." The angel said it so quietly that Dean, who had started to turn away, wasn’t sure if he heard him right.

"What?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.  

"I… wish I could set him free."  

There was that naivety, the kind that made it easy for Dean to forget that Cas had been preening his feathers long before his own ancestors had decided to fuck it up for the rest of humanity.

"Nah, man. The minute you took your eyes off ‘im, he’d wind up dead. You can’t free him without killing him." 

Dean said it as casually as he would have read the specials off of a diner menu. Facts of life, kid. Gotta learn proper care if Mom and I are going to get you a pet someday. 

So he didn’t understand the pain that flared behind Castiel’s eyes as the angel finally turned to face him. Deep in his gut, sharp and cold, a pang that Dean Winchester didn’t want to acknowledge as fear twisted and burrowed.

He dismissed it in the easiest way he knew how — with an “ah, screw it” grin and an arm thrown around Castiel’s shoulders, steering him back to the impala, the hunt, and Sammy. All the safe things in life. 

"Come on, man. We take down this coach-chomping son of a bitch before dawn, and tomorrow I’ll buy you a goldfish." 

**Author's Note:**

> Can be found on tumblr: [here](http://coltsandquills.tumblr.com/post/100709274801/and-this-bird-youll-never-change-one-shot).


End file.
